


Eternal Flame

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, Episode: s01e16 20 Hours in L.A.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-16
Updated: 2006-03-16
Packaged: 2019-05-30 09:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag..."





	Eternal Flame

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Kathleen A. Klatte    
"Eternal Flame"   
Feedback and commentary are most welcome.   
Disclaimer: The West Wing is the property of NBC, et al; this is a recreational endeavor,   
no profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.   
Inspired by events in "20 Hours in LA" 

"It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press. It is the   
soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the   
campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier, who   
salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin draped by the flag, who   
allows the protestor to burn the flag."  
Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY   
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA  
It was raining. A cold, soaking rain that chilled everyone to the bone...everyone who had   
gathered this day to pay final honor to a courageous young woman who'd died in the line   
of duty. President Josiah Bartlet seemed to have aged years in the past two days. His face   
was lined with weariness as he stood beside his daughter.   
Zoe's face was pale, and one arm rested in a sling. The injury had occurred when her   
bodyguard had shoved her out of the way of a speeding bullet. Gina hadn't meant to push   
so hard - it was the impact of the bullet that had done that.   
Charlie Young stood in his customary place, one pace behind the First Family, wondering   
for the hundredth time if this was really his fault. They'd all assured him that it wasn't -   
that no one was to blame but the creep who'd pulled the trigger - but still, he wondered.   
Would Zoë have been a target if she hadn't been going out with him? And why didn't   
they just take a shot at him, instead of an innocent teenaged girl?   
'Because they're cowards,' a voice seemed to whisper. Charlie heard that voice every   
once in a great while, when he was feeling particularly low. He liked to think that it was   
his mom, still looking out for him. She was right of course, just as he remembered. The   
guy who'd done this was a small-minded punk with nothing but hatred in his heart -   
someone who'd never learned the lessons of tolerance, and honor, and courage. Not like   
Gina.   
Charlie took a half-step closer to Zoë. As if sensing his nearness, she reached back and   
insinuated one small hand into his own.   
******  
Jed Bartlet noticed when his daughter reached out to Charlie, and he was glad. Charlie   
was a good man, and that was all that mattered to him. He watched attentively as the   
minister concluded his blessing and the honor guard stepped into place. Although he had   
no military background himself, he recalled Gina telling him that she'd been an Army   
officer before assuming her post, and he had personally arranged for her to be buried all   
appropriate honors.   
He watched as the honor guard reverently lifted the flag from her coffin in their white-  
gloved hands and began to fold it, every move precisely choreographed and emanating   
respect both for the deceased, and the symbol of the nation that she had served.   
He watched them lift the flag from the polished wooden casket of a brave young woman   
who'd given her life to protect his daughter, and he thought about some punk setting a   
match to it. Bile rose in his throat. He thought about the proposed amendment to the   
Constitution and a calm resolution filled him. Burn the flag? No way. Not if he had   
anything to say about it.  
Fin.


End file.
